


Why

by The_Chronicler



Category: Flashpoint (TV)
Genre: Mental Anguish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-19 00:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10628373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Chronicler/pseuds/The_Chronicler
Summary: A mother saves her child.... and there is nothing Spike can do about it.





	

Flashpoint: Why

By The Chronicler

He stared into the nowhere, watching the scene playing in his head again and again. The pain in his shoulders, the burning from his ripped palms were nothing but some itch in the back of his mind. Everything, the medics, the sirens, the helicopters, the mobbing media, his teammates… it was all background noise, a buzz buried under the skipping beat of his heart.

No matter the reality of the now, Cst. Michelangelo Scarlatti was lost in the scene of only an hour earlier.

0o0o0o0o0

The subject was a murderer. A cruel, delusional psychopath who decided to play the Joker to the SRU's Batman.

They had chased him across the city, from busy movie theater to library to, finally, an abandoned factory. His final destination, his trap for the SRU. He managed to separate them through a series of booby traps, collapsed walls, fire and smoke…

Spike found himself alone, standing on a high catwalk, staring at a mother and her child clinging to the rope the madman had handed to each of them. Holding his hands out, he tried to speak to the man.

Tried to make a connection.

Tried to negotiate.

Tried to reason.

Tried to plea.

Tried to beg.

But he looked at him with that painted on clown grin and, without so much as a blink, pushed.

The woman screamed "Jimmy!"

The child screamed "Mama!"

Spike screamed "NO!" and dived, skidding across the rough metal covered with broken glass and nails. Managing to hook one leg around a rail as he stretched out over the broken edge, grabbing the ropes, one in each hand. His shoulders popped as the mother and child hit the end of their ropes. The jute rope shredded his hands as they slid through his fingers, but he still tightened his grip, trying to hold. He bit back his cry as his knee popped as the weight of three was suddenly dangling from that one limb.

"Spike!" someone yelled from somewhere.

An insane laughter sounded behind and above him.

Blinking tears from his eyes, the SRU officer stared down at the mother and child, grasping desperately at their life lines. Every joint in his body was screaming in protest, popping and creaking as he was dragged, breath by breath, over the broken edge of the cat walk. The metal chunks would have been ripping his chest to shreds if not for his flak vest.

"Mama…" the child cried.

"Hold on, Jimmy! Hold on, baby! Don't you let go!" the mother cried.

"Don't let go, Jimmy!" Spike encouraged through clenched teeth. "I've got you!"

The mother looked up at Spike, tears streaming down her bruised face. She could see the rope coated in his blood, the sweat dripping into his eyes, the straining in his face as he held, as he lost inch by inch. With a sob, she told him "Save Jimmy. Let me go!"

Spike shook his head. "Just hang on! Help is coming!"

Help had to be coming!

He knew they were coming!

God please, let them be coming!

But she didn't believe him.

The insane laughter echoed through space and time. A boot caught Spike in the ribs.

Air exploded from his lungs, the rope slipping nearly a foot, mother and child screaming in terror.

"Don't…" he gasped. Struggling through clenched teeth, he pleaded "Don't… let… go!"

"Drop your weapon!" came a command from somewhere else. Other voices were shouting now.

The insane laughter only grew louder. Another kick.

"Please…." The mother begged. "let me go. Save Jimmy. Save my son"

The rope was slipping.

Spike couldn't hold on. He blinked at her, tears streaming from his own eyes. "I won't… I won't let go… I can't… please… just hold on!"

But, even as he said it, he felt the rope cut down to the muscle, the tendons stretching in his shoulders, the pop, pop, pop as his knee began to pull apart…

He couldn't hold on.

He couldn't let go.

"Please…"

She smiled at him.

She actually smiled at him!

"It's okay." She assured him. "Save Jimmy." She whispered, her voice suddenly very calm.

"No… don't…"

"Boss, I've got the solution!"

"… got solution, boss."

Another kick.

A knee landed in the middle of his back, creating popping sounds up his spine.

"Scorpio…"

Bang! Bang!

But all Spike saw was her…

A mother saving her child…

… as she smiled up at him in that reassuring way, fingers unwrapping themselves from the rope, releasing her life line, falling…

Falling…

Falling….

Striking with a thud on the mangled steel work below.

Spike gasped, jerking on the rope, as if he could, somehow, pull her back up from death, save her somehow, make it not happen…

"Mama!" the child screamed.

"Spike! Hold on! Almost there!"

"mama! Mama!"

Shaking his head, Spike adjusted his vision. "ji… " he started, but chocked on a sob. "Jimmy! Jimmy, look at me! Look at me, kiddo. Look right at me!" he called to the child. Wrapping the empty rope around his hand, he grabbed the other rope with both hands. "Hold on, Jimmy! Hold on! I got you, buddy."

The child looked up, tears leaving dirty streaks down his cheeks. "Please…"

"Don't let go!" Spike snapped.

A body fell beside him, reaching pass him. "I got him, Spike. I got him!"

Ed!

He grabbed the rope and pulled. Sam joined him, anchoring their team leader so that he could concentrating on pulling the child up to safety.

"Ed…" Spike choked as arms wrapped around him.

Wordy pulled him back, releasing the pressure on his knee. Pulled him back until he was leaning back against Wordy's chest, the ropes still clutched desperately in his bloody hands. "I got you, Spike." He assured. "Let go of the ropes. Kid's safe. Ed's got the kid."

But Spike clutched tighter, squeezing his eyes tight, fighting to save her… save the mother who gave her life because he wasn't strong enough to hold on…

He wasn't strong enough…

He wasn't…

0o0o0o0o0

"Why?"

Spike blinked.

"Why!" a man yelled.

Again Spike blinked, looking at him, the angry voice cutting through the fog of memories. "huh?"

"WHY, damn you!" the man continued to rage, surging through the fog, coming towards him. "Why'd you let her die? Answer me! Why did you let my wife fall?!" He was screaming, his fists balled up, his face red.

Spike blinked.

"WHY! WHY!" He lunged.

Suddenly Greg Parker was there, putting himself between the distraught man and the target of his pain inspired rage. "Sir, please, your son needs you. Jimmy… he's going to need you to be strong for him. Let him know…"

Team One quickly filed in behind their boss, blocking the view of Spike, blocking his focus.

"Strong?" the man threw a hand in Spike's direction. "Why wasn't he strong? Why didn't he do something? Why didn't he save her? Why did he let her die? Why? Why!" With his target blocked from view, his anger began to crumble under the weight of his grief. His knees buckled and he began to sink, his chin dropping to his chest.

Greg caught him before he hit the ground, lowering him gently, and letting him cry against his chest. "It's gonna be alright. You can get through this. You can be there for Jimmy."

Spike blinked. It was as if the entire scene was playing on some movie screen: bigger than life, 3-d without the glasses, surround sound…

Spike blinked at the medic who was just tightening the brace around his knee. "Done?" he asked.

The man glanced up at him, startled. "Uh… yea, but you should see a doctor. Hands need stitches. Knee needs a look at too, but you don't need an ambulance if you don't…"

"Yea, thanks." Was the constable's grumbled response. He pushed himself off the stretcher and tested his weight on his leg.

"Don't you want me to wrap your hands?"

"Nah. I'm good." Was the dulled answer as he limped away.

0o0o0o0o0

Ed crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the truck. "Damn." He breathed.

"Long day." Greg agreed.

"Damn long day." Wordy expanded as he tossed his gear into the back of the truck.

"Is Jimmy gonna be okay?" Jules wondered, handing her rifle to Wordy who packed it away.

"His aunt is waiting for him at the hospital. She'll stay with them until she's sure his father can handle it." Greg assured. He ran a hand over his balding head. "Okay. A lot to go over with this one."

"Like a damn Paramount Studio tour." Sam complained. "Walls coming done, floors falling away, blow torches, grenades… I mean, what the hell…" His voice was rising.

"Hey!" Ed snapped. Pushing away from the truck, he grabbed the younger shooter's vest and jerked him a step closer. Though he started out aggressive, once Sam was looking at him, he took a gentler tone: "He spent a lot of time and money planning his day of Great Villiany. Gives us something new… a few new somethings to strategize for."

"Huh." Wordy wondered. "How many times are we gonna have to go up against exploding office equipment?"

"Hey, if there's a first, there will always be a second." Ed answered, shaking a finger at him.

Wordy chuckled. "Yea, well, thought Spike was gonna have a heart attack when that desktop started spitting keys at him."

Even Greg chuckled at that.

"Is villainy even a word?" Sam wondered, which brought on a whole new bought of chuckles.

"Um, hey, sir?"

Greg turned about to see a shy medic easing toward them. "Yes?" He recognized the man as the one tending to Spike. "Ready to head out?" He handed his weapon to Ed. "I'm gonna ride to the hospital with Spike. Get everyone back to the barn…"

"But, sir, your man isn't going to the hospital." The medic interrupted.

Greg frowned. "What?" he asked, turning back.

The medic held out one of the team's ear pieces. "He left this on the stretcher. I told him he should be seen by a doctor, but… I don't know… I can't force him…"

"I sure as hell can." Ed growled, pushing away from the truck, and snatching the com. "Where is he?"

"He took one of your trucks…"

"He left?" Jules looked about, counting their vehicles. Didn't take long. There was only two still there. "Why would he leave?"

"Where would he go?" Sam wanted to know.

Everyone looked at Greg.

Greg looked at Ed.

Ed spun about, slamming his fist into the car door.

0o0o0o0o0

"Hey, Winnie." Spike greeted with his usual big grin as he limped past her desk, rapping his bloody knuckles on the top.

The woman rose up from her seat, eyes going big at the sight of her friend. "Oh, my God… Spike! Are you alright?"

He didn't even pause as he walked pass her. "Yea. Sure. Fine and dandy. Wonderful. Peaches and cream…." He was still mumbling assurances when he walked into the debriefing room, hit the seal button, and all the doors and windows closed behind him, cutting him off from the world outside.

Now, Spike thought to himself, now he was where he had to be. "Yup. Yup." He nodded to himself, circling the table and grabbing the proper forms from the proper cabinet. Tossing them out on the table, he began to pace. "Okay. Okay." He spoke to himself. "debrief… um, got the hot call, what?" he glanced about the table, looking for someone to answer. "Oh… yea… Old man Ed must be driving again. Okay. Okay. Time…"

He rubbed his forehead, trying to make it work, trying to remember the details. He didn't notice the bloody palm print left, smearing into his hair. "Think, think, think, Spikey. Time… Time, damn it!" he snapped at himself.

The snap sent waves of pain through his skull. With a groan, he closed his eyes.

A mother saving her child…

… as she smiled up at him in that reassuring way, fingers unwrapping themselves from the rope, releasing her life line, falling…

Falling…

Falling….

Striking with a thud on the mangled steel work below.

Spike's knee buckled and he grabbed the back of a chair to keep from falling. He took a moment, gasping for breath, filling his lungs again, before he looked at the paper work.

"Time…" he whispered. Licking his lips, he decided "Eight… eight something… a.m. yea… yea."

0o0o0o0o0

The truck was parked at an odd angle in the garage, the driver's door left open.

"He came home." Jules observed.

"Did anyone see him take a hit to the head?" Greg asked. "'Cause this, this isn't exactly Spike's best parking skills."

Sam shook his head. "Took a couple hard hits to the ribs, but…" he shook his head, frowning.

"Everything was going mad in there, boss." Wordy pointed out. "We couldn't see each other half the time."

Ed leaned into the driver's door to turn the key, turning off the engine. But, as he stepped back again, he stopped, looking down at his hand. The key was covered in sticky blood. Glancing at the steering wheel, he could see where Spike had held the wheel. Bloody hand prints marked the 10 and 2 positions.

"Um, boss…" Ed called to his friend, nodding to the interior. When Greg leaned in to look, Ed ground out "We gotta get him to the hospital. And now."

Greg let his breath out slowly. "Okay, team, let's go take care of our boy."

Winnie was waiting for them, looking scared. "His hands are all bloody, Ed." She told him as he put an arm around her shoulders, comforting her.

"Yea… tough day. Hey, is Team Three up?" Ed asked.

She nodded. "Yea. You guys are in the clear." She looked at the debriefing room that had been locked up tight since Spike had entered. "Take care of him, okay?"

"Yea." Ed gave her a squeeze before following Greg to the door.

Greg knocked on the door. "Hey, Spike?" he called through the intercom. "Can you open the door, buddy?"

"Can't." came a high pitched response. "Need to finish debriefing."

Greg and Ed looked at each other. Greg took his finger off the intercom.

"He's debriefing… himself? Alone?" Ed raised one eyebrow.

"He's hyped up. Running on adrenaline." Greg paused. "Shock?"

Ed tilted his head in consideration. "Maybe. Not easy to watch a woman sacrifice herself to save her kid, and not be able to do a damn thing about it but watch."

Greg sighed. He hit the intercom again. "Hey, buddy, you're debriefing? Without us?"

"You were late. Started without you." Came the quick answer.

"We're here now." When it was silent for a moment, Greg called "Spike?"

The door opened so suddenly that Ed yanked Greg back… just in case.

Spike blinked at them. "Hey, boss, question."

Greg paused, a little set back by his obviously torn up officer and his apparent oblivious attitude toward his condition. "Uh… sure. Ask away."

Spike spun about and limped back to the table. Leaning on his bloody fingers, he frowned down on the papers. "What time did the hot call come in?"

Again, Ed and Greg exchanged glances before they cautiously followed their man into the room.

"Um… o-seven-forty-eight." Greg answered slowly. The two men came to stand on either side of Spike and looked down at his work.

The table was covered in debriefing forms, but most were smudged and ruined by blood. Some of the chairs had hand prints on them from where Spike had grabbed them when his knee protested, or he had become dizzy or when he closed his eyes and…

A mother saving her child…

… as she smiled up at him in that reassuring way, fingers unwrapping themselves from the rope, releasing her life line, falling…

Falling…

Falling….

Striking with a thud on the mangled steel work below.

Greg caught his elbow as his legs seemed to melt out from under him. "Woe, there, buddy. Easy does it." He nodded to Ed who spun a chair about and eased it behind Spike as Greg lowered him down. "Spike? You still with us?"

Spike blinked.

"Boss, hospital." Ed insisted.

Greg started to nod, waving to the rest of the team standing just outside the door.

But Spike was suddenly on his feet again, pushing pass Greg and limping around the table again. "No!" he snapped, causing another painful pulse through his skull.

Jules took a step toward him when she saw his face scrunch up. "Spike, please. Look at yourself. You're hurt!"

But the tech slammed his hand down on the table, leaving a mess of a hand print. "No! We… we need to debrief. I need to know. I need to… to know…" He ground his teeth in frustration.

"Know what?" Greg asked. He straightened up. "Spike, what do you need to know?"

Spike blinked. He stared down at the papers. "What… " he rubbed his temple, trying to think. "what…wh…" he licked his lips, like he was struggling to pronounce the word. "Wh… why." He stopped.

"Why." Ed repeated, looking at Greg. "Jimmy's dad…"

Greg held up his hand. "You want to know why today happened." He announced.

Spike's brow wrinkled in a disbelief look. "No. Dude, boss, man… guy was stone cold whacked out of his skull. He was a nut case." He paused to shrug and look impress. "Brilliantly creative, homicidal nut case."

Wordy chuckled at that.

Spike grinned up at him. "Right, huh." But then he was tapping the paper work again. "Why." He spoke in a whisper. His eyes closed lightly.

A mother saving her child…

… as she smiled up at him in that reassuring way, fingers unwrapping themselves from the rope, releasing her life line, falling…

Falling…

Falling….

Striking with a thud on the mangled steel work below.

This time Ed reached him first. "I gotcha." He lowered him into a chair. Leaning over him, hands on the arms of the chair on either side of his friend, he said "This is stupid, Spike. I'm taking you to the hospital."

"no…" was Spike's whispered protest. He forced his eyes open and looked up into Ed's with a pleading gaze. "I have to know. Please…"

"Know what?" Ed asked.

"WHY!" Spike suddenly yelled at him.

"Why what?!" Ed yelled right back. "Why you're bleeding all over the office?" he waved a hand about, encompassing all the bloody smears and prints and splatters.

"Humph." Spike's mind was distracted by the papers again. "duh. Did you even look at me? I'm a mess."

"Spike." Greg tried again. "Why what?"

"Why…" his vision seemed to unfocuse.

A mother saving her child…

… as she smiled up at him in that reassuring way, fingers unwrapping themselves from the rope, releasing her life line, falling…

Falling…

Falling….

Striking with a thud on the mangled steel work below.

He couldn't breath.

He couldn't hold his head up.

He couldn't do anything anymore.

"Hey, buddy, you back?"

Spike blinked at Greg who had appeared at his side, crouching beside the chair. "Boss?"

"Yea, I'm here, Spike. Right here with you, buddy."

"why…" he whispered. "Why wasn't I… why wasn't I strong enough?"

"Ah, Michelangelo…" Greg reached up and rubbed Spike's shoulder. "You didn't let her fall. She let go. There was nothing you could have done…"

"She let go because I couldn't hold on!" Spike growled. He clenched his hands, feeling the torn skin scream in protest, Knowing the pain was little of what he truly deserved. "She knew… she knew I would drop her… "

"No. She knew that she would sacrifice anything to give Jimmy any and every chance in the world." Greg licked his lips. "Spike, she gave her son you! She knew you would save his life." He squeezed his shoulder. "And you did, buddy. That kid is going home tonight because you were strong enough to hold on. Even after she fell… remember? You got Jimmy to look up at you, not down. You made that connection with him, made him hold on. You saved his life!"

Spike blinked at him. "I… I did?" His eyes fluttered close again.

A mother saving her child…

… as she smiled up at him in that reassuring way, fingers unwrapping themselves from the rope, releasing her life line, falling…

Falling…

Falling….

Striking with a thud on the mangled steel work below.

"Yea, Spike, you did. You did good." Greg answered.

"Jimmy! Jimmy, look at me! Look at me, kiddo. Look right at me!" he called to the child. Wrapping the empty rope around his hand, he grabbed the other rope with both hands. "Hold on, Jimmy! Hold on! I got you, buddy."

The child looked up, tears leaving dirty streaks down his cheeks. "Please…"

"Don't let go!" Spike snapped.

"Jimmy! Jimmy, look at me! Look at me, kiddo. Look right at me!" he called to the child. Wrapping the empty rope around his hand, he grabbed the other rope with both hands. "Hold on, Jimmy! Hold on! I got you, buddy."

The child looked up, tears leaving dirty streaks down his cheeks. "Please…"

"Don't let go!" Spike snapped.

. "Jimmy! Jimmy, look at me! Look at me, kiddo. Look right at me!" he called to the child. Wrapping the empty rope around his hand, he grabbed the other rope with both hands. "Hold on, Jimmy! Hold on! I got you, buddy."

The child looked up, tears leaving dirty streaks down his cheeks. "Please…"

"Don't let go!" Spike snapped.

"… don't let go…" Spike whispered. "Boss?"

"Yea, buddy, I'm here."

"I'd kinda like to go to the hospital, now."

0o0o0o0o0


End file.
